


Every Inch of You (And Then Some)

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: you want a piece of my heart (you better start from the start) [4]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: In which, nearly a year to the day after their first meeting, Ryan and Shane take a day off from studying for finals in order to have breakfast in bed, make out (a lot), play video games, have a very important discussion about their future, and fight with Zack about basketball.(Spoiler alert: the last thing is all Ryan.)





	Every Inch of You (And Then Some)

**Author's Note:**

> and here we are, at the damn finale! the response to this series has been so much more than I ever could have anticipated, and I hope you all enjoy the final installment! 
> 
> this one goes out to [Ella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elasticella) for continually filling my brain with fic ideas and providing me with much needed encouragement and bribery! title from [And Then Some](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rs73mU24E8g) by The Arkells.

Shane wakes up with sore legs.

It’s a soreness that he’s more than familiar with, and it’s nothing that a good stretch can’t fix, so while he squints at the bright sunlight filtering through Ryan’s thin curtains, he rolls onto his back and extends his legs out to their full length. Both his feet end up dangling over the edge of the mattress, but after only a few minutes, the soreness starts to dissipate as his muscles, cramped from being curled up all night, start to relax. Once he’s feeling fully operational again, he turns back onto his side, feet still hanging off the bed, and slides a little closer, until his leg is just touching Ryan’s.

Ryan’s still fast asleep on his stomach. His face is turned towards Shane, both arms are tucked underneath his pillow, and the blanket is draped crookedly over the middle of his bare back. Shane’s glad to see that he’s the first one awake; while the last few weeks have been difficult for both of them, his final projects and exams haven’t been nearly as intense as Ryan’s. Over the last few weeks, he’s lost count of how many nearly incomprehensible texts he’s gotten from Ryan that are timestamped somewhere between one and six o’clock in the morning, how many energy drinks he’s seen Ryan guzzle back, how many nights he’s slept over and woken up in the middle of the night to find Ryan at his desk, face washed out from the glare of his laptop, working on editing a video or reworking a paper. Their last ghost hunting expedition was over a month ago, and Ryan hasn’t even _mentioned_ the topic in least a week. 

Thankfully, they’ve made it to the homestretch. There’s only one week left to go before the semester is officially, _finally_ fucking over.

Still, even though they’re so close to the end, Shane wonders how long it’s going to take for the bags underneath Ryan’s eyes to fade away.

Slowly, he leans forward and presses a kiss to Ryan’s bare shoulder, to a patch of skin that’s been warmed by the sunlight filtering in. Ryan snuffles quietly, but his eyes don't open, and after lingering for a moment to make sure he stays asleep, Shane slides out from underneath the thin blanket, pulls it up to Ryan’s shoulders, and carefully clambers off the bed, wincing as the mattress squeaks. After grabbing his glasses from Ryan’s nightstand, he tucks his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants and closes the door excruciatingly slowly behind him so that it doesn’t creak.

Once he’s splashed his face with some water and brushed his teeth, he heads out into the kitchen. There’s traffic outside, and someone playing music down the block, but inside the apartment, it’s only his footsteps that break the quiet. The door to TJ’s bedroom, which opens off the kitchen, is still closed tight, and when Shane glances into the living room, he can see the top of Zack’s head propped against the arm of the sofa, the rest of him buried underneath a purple blanket. 

A few months ago, it would have felt weird to be the first one awake, to be simply wandering around the apartment without Ryan to tell him where things are, to warn him that the outlet on the stove doesn’t actually work, that their fridge occasionally makes a horrible groaning sound even though it works fine. It would have felt invasive being in the space by himself, like he was crossing some kind of boundary, like at any moment someone was going to pop up out of a trap door and tell him that his free trial was up and it was time to leave.

A lot has changed in the last few months.

Now, he’s pretty sure that he knows Ryan’s apartment as well as, maybe even better than, his own. He knows that the bathroom door swells after someone’s had a shower and needs to be yanked open, knows how the sunlight falls on the tiles in the kitchen, knows which coffee mugs are TJ’s and which are Ryan’s (and which one is Zack’s and which is his own), knows where the spare blankets and towels are kept.

Even if it’s just on a part-time basis, he feels like he belongs.

(Of course, he’s all too aware that said belonging could be revoked at any given moment, but he tries not to dwell on that. No good is bound to come out of it.)

He throws on the coffee maker and slides some bagels and frozen waffles into the toaster oven. Once he’s grabbed some plates and mugs, he starts going through the notifications he’s missed overnight, and he’s just started scrolling through his Twitter feed when he hears shuffling footsteps coming from the direction of the living room. He glances up just in time to see Zack come in, rubbing at his eyes. His hair is fluffy on one side of his head and plastered to the other, and there are lines embedded in his face from the seams of the couch. Shane knows that he likely didn’t wake him up; Zack stays over at least three nights a week, and he’s capable of sleeping through just about anything (including, on one memorable occasion, Ryan and Shane stumbling in half-drunk and tearing at each other’s clothes and not exactly being quiet about it).

“Coffee?” he asks with a jaw-cracking yawn, waving a hand in Shane’s general direction.

“Yeah, man, coffee.” Zack gives him a thumbs-up before he shuffles down the hall to the bathroom, yawning all the way. Shane grabs two more mugs from the cabinet and sets them down beside the coffee maker before he sets about filling up the plates he grabbed with food. 

Getting everything into the bedroom takes two trips. On the first, he sets the plates on Ryan’s desk, which is really the only surface in the room that has space for them. He heads back out to grab the coffee, and when he returns, Ryan is stirring. Shane uses his foot to close the door and sets the mugs down on the nightstand just as Ryan groans and rolls over onto his side to face Shane.

“Hey,” Shane says, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” Ryan mumbles thickly, slowly rolling up into a seated position, blanket sliding down to pool in his lap. “My alarm went off.” His chin drops heavily onto Shane’s shoulder, hard enough to hurt slightly, but the kiss that Ryan presses to the side of his neck more than makes up for it. “S’that coffee?” 

“Is that the word of the day or something?” Shane laughs, turning his head and dropping a kiss into Ryan’s disheveled, soft hair. “There’s food too, if you want some.” 

“In a minute.” Ryan grabs the back of Shane’s shirt and falls backwards, tugging Shane with him. “C’mere.”

“It’s gonna get cold,” Shane protests as he swings his legs up onto the mattress and stretches out with his head on Ryan’s warm pillow. “You’re really gonna let all my efforts go to waste?”

“Toaster oven doesn’t require any effort,” Ryan mutters, throwing one arm over Shane’s waist and dropping his head to Shane’s chest. “And it’s just for a minute. Shut up.” Shane has a comment on the tip of his tongue about Ryan’s bossiness, but he decides to hold onto it for a better moment, a moment where they’re doing something a little more active than simply lying in bed together. He drops his fingers to the back of Ryan’s head and traces them along the nape of his neck, up into his hair and back again, savors the warmth of Ryan being pressed against his side. Ryan sighs quietly and tilts his head just enough to brush his mouth against the base of Shane’s neck.

It’s a small touch, so gentle that it really shouldn’t even qualify as a kiss, but it’s nothing less than absolutely overwhelming for Shane’s heart. 

In a week and a half, once he’s gone back to Illinois, he’s going to miss this desperately. Thankfully, he’s not going back for the entire summer; it’s just a few weeks for him to unwind and catch up with his folks. The place he’s been working at since junior year of high school finally went belly-up back around Christmas, so he needs to come back to LA sooner rather than later to find a job.

Even if the place _had_ still been up and running, he’s not sure that he would have returned. Staying away from Ryan for four months was hard enough when they weren’t actually dating, when they were in some kind of weird, undefined middle zone. Doing it now, now that Ryan is basically the first thing he thinks of when his eyes open every day, would be...

Well, it’d be pretty fucking difficult, to say the least.

They end up lying together for what is definitely longer than a minute. By the time Ryan sits up again, groans and runs a hand through his hair, the coffee is the perfect temperature. The food is a little bit cold, but Shane eats it anyway.

Cold waffles are a small price to pay for a few extra minutes of quiet with Ryan.

“There’s so much shit I need to do today,” Ryan sighs after they’ve finished eating as he casts a disdainful glare over at his desk, which is piled high with textbooks and notes and their empty plates.

“I thought you were all ready for your Monday exam,” Shane replies from where he’s leaning back against the wall underneath the window, sipping his coffee. Ryan shrugs and drops his head down against Shane’s shoulder.

“I mean, I probably am. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Still feels like I should do more.”

“I know what you mean.” Shane has a final paper due on Tuesday that he’s written fifteen of twenty pages for so far, and even though finishing it shouldn’t be too difficult, he still feels like he should be working on it right now, like any minute that they spend _not_ focusing on school is only going to screw them over in the days to come.

Frankly, he thinks it’s a pretty fucked up mindset that they’ve both got going on. It’s one thing to want to be prepared, but it’s another thing entirely for that want to be so consuming that he feels guilty about spending fifteen minutes just relaxing with Ryan. 

What he needs more than more exam preparation is a break. More than that, _Ryan_ needs a break.

So, after he finishes up his coffee, he says, “I think we should take the day off.” 

Ryan stays still for a moment, like he’s trying to make sure he heard Shane right, before he sits up and turns to look at him, eyes wide.

“Are you fucking with me?” he asks, gaze flicking back towards his overburdened desk.

“I’m dead serious,” Shane answers. “You can’t keep this up. You need to relax.” 

“I can relax next week, when all of this shit is done.”

“I think you might have a psychic break before you get that far.”

“Fuck off,” Ryan replies with absolutely no bite behind the words. The hand that isn’t wrapped around his coffee mug is resting on Shane’s thigh, tracing meaningless shapes into the worn fabric of his sweatpants so gently that it almost tickles. He doesn’t talk for a long time, but Shane doesn’t push him; it won’t be a relaxing day off if Ryan feels like he’s being forced into it, so he stays quiet, lets Ryan’s brain whip through the issue, and watches the subtle movements of his fingers.

“You’re right,” Ryan eventually sighs, taking his hand away from Shane’s leg to rub at his eyes. “Everything’s still going to be there tomorrow. It’s not like the amount of work is going to grow.”

“Not unless you get some kind of Gremlins type situation going on. Don’t feed the books after midnight.” It’s not Shane’s best quip, he’s willing to admit that, but it still makes Ryan wheeze.

“Gremlins?” he laughs disbelievingly. After taking Shane’s empty mug, he leans forward and sets it, along with his own, on the nightstand before he returns, throws one leg over Shane’s lap, and sits back against Shane’s thighs, knees pressed tight to the mattress on either side of his hips. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t disparage Gremlins,” Shane answers, trying to keep his voice steady. It’s easier said than done, since all he can really focus on is how much he wants to run his hands up Ryan’s bare chest, how much he wants to fit his mouth to the sun-illuminated curve of Ryan’s neck. “Just because it’s too scary for you-”

“Oh, fuck _off_ ,” Ryan interrupts with a grin before he leans down and presses his lips against Shane’s. He tastes like coffee and cheap maple syrup, the artificial kind, and Shane wants to lick the taste out of his mouth. He traces his tongue along the swell of Ryan’s bottom lip, so he can get a start on doing just that, but before he can proceed any further, Ryan pulls back a few inches. His grin has turned into something more like a smirk, one Shane recognizes all too well. 

“I’ve had enough of your smart mouth, Mr. Madej.”

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Shane retorts, curling his hands around the backs of Ryan’s thighs. Ryan shrugs and slides his fingers back through Shane’s hair, tugs on it just hard enough to make Shane’s breath stutter.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he murmurs lowly before he dives back in for another kiss, fingers tightening in Shane’s hair.

True to his word, he thinks of something that turns out to be very satisfactory for the both of them. 

&.

By the time they finish up and shower, it’s nearly noon, and the kitchen smells like fresh coffee. TJ’s bedroom door is open, as is the one leading out to the balcony.

“There anything in particular you wanna do today?” Ryan asks as he pours himself another cup of coffee, glasses sliding down his nose. Absently, Shane reaches out and pushes them back up and is rewarded with a soft smile that makes his heart feel like it might explode. “Any particular way you want to relax?”

“Well, we already did one of the things that I had in mind,” he answers, wiggling his eyebrows as high as he can manage. Even as a flush invades his face, Ryan groans and throws one hand into the air.

“That’s it!” he calls back over his shoulder as he walks out of the kitchen. “I’m going to hang out with normal people.”

“I think you’re making a wrong turn then,” Shane laughs, gathering up his mug and following Ryan through the living room, out onto the balcony and into an absolutely gorgeous day; the sun is bright overhead, but there’s a breeze that makes the heat less sweltering, more tolerable.

“Hey!” TJ exclaims as they step outside. He’s sitting in the wicker chair on the left side of the small balcony, legs stretched out, coffee in one hand and a joint in the other. “I heard that, and I take great offense to it. You’re lucky you’ve got the Ryan Bergara seal of approval.”

“Don’t call it that,” Ryan groans again. “I take it back, you’re weird too. Zack, looks like you're the most normal one here.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll wear the title with pride.” Based on how slowly the words fall from his mouth, he’s incredibly stoned, but he still manages to launch himself from his chair with a surprising amount of speed. “Here, you guys can sit.”

“I can stand,” Shane says, but to no avail; Zack has already slid by him and ducked back into the living room. He glances over at Ryan, who just shrugs and waves a hand at the chair, so Shane sits down and tightens his hold on his mug of coffee so that it doesn’t slop onto his hand when Ryan sits down on his lap. It’s not going to be a very comfortable position for long; the chair isn’t comfortable at the best of times (Shane has never understood the appeal of wicker, although if he remembers correctly, TJ found the chairs on the curb and brought them home, and free is always good), and Ryan is too damn muscular to be light.

But for now, until his ass inevitably falls asleep, he can’t think of anywhere else that he’d rather be.

A few minutes later, Zack returns with a fresh cup of coffee and a throw pillow from the couch and aims a kick at TJ’s outstretched legs.

“Move, asshole.”

“Why do _I_ have to move?” TJ complains even as he sits up and pulls his legs in. “Make Shane move.”

“Shane has at least sixty percent more leg than you,” Zack replies, dropping the pillow to the ground and fitting himself into the space between TJ’s legs and the railing, “So he needs more room. Give me that joint back.”

“Thanks for having my back, man,” Shane says, absently wrapping one arm around Ryan’s waist and curling his fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Zack gives him a quick salute as he takes a hit off the joint, and his next words come through a plume of smoke.

“Anytime, buddy.” After passing the joint back up to TJ, Zack leans forward and grins, and although Shane doesn’t know what’s about to come out of his mouth, he _does_ have an idea how Ryan’s going to react to whatever it is. He knows that grin too well, from so many hours spent exactly like this, either on the balcony or in the living room. “So, Ryan. That game two nights ago. Was that, or was that not, the worst fucking officiating that you’ve ever seen?”

“You’re serious?” Ryan retorts, in the exact tone Shane was expecting. “There wasn’t a _single_ bad call in that game.” 

“Get real,” Zack scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That foul against DeRozan in the fourth was bullshit.”

“ _You_ get real!” Ryan fires back. “Listen, asshole...”

&.

As the hours creep by without a cloud in the sky, not one of them talks about school.

Eventually, once the coffee pot has run dry again, they all end up with beer, and Shane drinks his while leaning back against the railing. Zack and Ryan have gotten into half a dozen different arguments about sports, none of which he’s really been able to follow along with. He _thinks_ that they’re back on basketball, but it’s hard to tell. He barely knows the broad strokes of any of the sports Ryan is into; the key personalities and players, the finer details, are totally lost on him.

That being said, even though he could really give less of a fuck about any sport that isn’t part of the Winter Olympics, it’s amusing how outright incredulous Ryan gets when Zack says something that sounds totally and utterly benign to Shane’s untrained ears, and there’s _definitely_ something to be said about how cocky he gets when he knows (or has convinced himself) that he’s right. It’s way hotter than it has any right to be (especially since, again, the amount of fucks that Shane gives about sports might actually be in the negatives), but Shane can’t help himself. The way Ryan sounds when he’s arguing is eerily close to how he gets sometimes when they’re in bed together, when he’s playing the part of being belligerent so that Shane will respond by finding a way to shut him up.

That’s a train of thought that’s bound to get him hard in no time at all, but thankfully, before he can lose himself too quickly in reminiscing, Ryan and Zack’s latest argument dissolves into absolute disorder.

“Fuck you!” Zack exclaims, whipping the pillow he’s been sitting on at Ryan’s head.

“No, fuck you!” Ryan laughs madly, catching the pillow in midair before it flies over the edge of the balcony.

Shane laughs and glances over at TJ, who just shakes his head, rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Every goddamn day with this,” he says before he swigs the rest of his beer back, leans forward and claps his hand on Zack’s shoulder. “You still wanna go to the library?” 

“Fuck, man, I was hoping you’d forget,” Zack groans, pushing himself up to his feet. “You two gonna come?”

For a moment, Shane half-expects Ryan to say yes, if only out of habit, so he’s pleasantly surprised when Ryan shakes his head instead. 

“Nah. We’re taking the day off. Have fun though.”

“Have _fun_?" TJ gasps. "Ryan, that's just mean. Catch you guys later.” Once the two of them head back inside, Shane starts to make a move towards TJ’s now-empty chair. Before he can make it more than a few steps, Ryan sets his beer down on the concrete and comes over to stand in front of him with a hand on the railing on either side of him.

“Did you want to go out tonight?” he asks. “Like, to see a movie or something?”

Technically, even though he has still has some clean clothes in his bag and a toothbrush in the bathroom, what Shane should probably do is head home. He’s already slept over two days in a row; going for three feels like he’ll be pushing his luck.

But Ryan isn’t a very good liar; he wears his heart on his sleeve, shows his emotions vividly on his face, and there’s nothing in his expression that makes Shane think that Ryan is asking him to stick around just because he feels obligated to.

Still, he has to check.

“Do you want me to stay over again?” he asks, dropping his hand to the side of Ryan’s face and brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. Ryan nods and slides one of his hands along the railing, until it’s curved around Shane’s waist.

“You said that I needed to relax, right?” When Shane nods, Ryan continues, “I guarantee that if you leave, I’m gonna go right back to studying. So really, if you don’t want me to have a fucking psychic break, or whatever you want to call it, it’s in your best interests to stay.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Shane mock-gasps. “Ryan, that’s a low, even for you.”

“Is it going to work?” Ryan retorts with a grin. Shane pretends to consider it for a moment before he sighs exaggeratedly and nods. 

“ _This_ time. But I’m onto you. You’re going to have to come up with some other way of tricking me into doing your evil bidding for next time.”

“Pretty sure I already have a few other ways that work like a charm,” Ryan answers, voice low as he leans up and kisses the side of Shane’s neck.

“We’re getting off-topic here,” Shane says, taking a deep breath when Ryan kisses him again, right above the collar of his shirt. “I’m down to just stay in. Unless there’s something you really want to go see.” 

“Not really. And Zack and TJ probably won’t be back until late. Seems like a shame to waste having the place to ourselves.”

“That it does.” Ryan presses yet another kiss to the side of his jaw, and Shane instinctively tilts his head back, even though literally anyone walking by below could glance up and see them. He has to swallow, compose himself, before he talks again. “Want to order in? Watch something? Some-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-Netflix and chill?”

Ryan groans loudly and drops his forehead heavily against Shane’s sternum.

“Just for that, I’m making you pay for dinner.”

“Fine,” Shane shrugs, dropping a kiss on Ryan’s temple. “Then I get to pick what we’re eating.”

He ends up going with Chipotle, not only because it’s the cheapest, but also because it’s Ryan’s favorite. The app says it’ll take forty-five minutes for the delivery to arrive, so Shane turns his ringer on so he won’t miss the call and tosses his phone onto the coffee table.

“So,” he says, dropping down onto the couch and spreading his arms along the back. “We’ve got some time to waste.”

“Got any ideas?” Ryan asks, dropping down beside him close enough that their legs are pressed together from thigh to knee. His lips are slightly parted, and Shane can still feel the phantom remnants of Ryan’s kisses on his neck, and frankly, Shane kind of wants to press him down into the couch and make out until they’re both panting messes.

But if they start that again, he’s pretty sure they’re not going to stop at just making out, and he _really_ doesn’t want to have to interrupt anything so that he can get food.

So, instead, he says, “Mario Kart? Pretty sure I’m still in the lead. Maybe you can win back your title.”

“There’s no way you’re in the goddamn lead,” Ryan answers, nostrils flaring slightly as he digs his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling. Shane immediately bursts out laughing; Ryan’s competitive streak knows no bounds, but the fact he’s actually keeping a running tally of their Mario Kart victories is absolutely fucking ridiculous. After a moment, Ryan’s mouth drops open, and he exchanges his phone for a controller.

“You’re two games ahead,” he mutters, dropping a second controller into Shane’s lap. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Natural talent, baby,” Shane winks. “Also, you were drunk the last time we played.”

“That isn’t even _fair_.” Turning the console on, Ryan continues, “I’m coming for your title.”

“You’re not going to be able to reach it. Especially not if I do this,” Shane retorts, stretching his arm up into the air.

In retrospect, he probably should have expected Ryan’s next move. He slides over, digs his fingers into Shane’s sides where his shirt has ridden up, and starts tickling him. Shane drops the controller (to the couch, thankfully, although it does end up bouncing off and onto the floor) and grabs for Ryan’s darting hands. Ryan fights back and somehow ends up sprawled underneath Shane, one leg hanging off the couch. After more struggling amidst wheezed laughter and cursing, Shane finally manages to get his hands wrapped around Ryan’s wrists, which he pins to the armrest over his head.

“ _That_ wasn’t fair,” he says, echoing Ryan’s complaint from earlier. “C’mon. Tickling is for cowards.” 

“You’re just pissed I got the jump on you,” Ryan replies, panting slightly, cheeks tinged with color. He brings his other leg up onto the couch and drapes it around Shane’s, so that his heel is pressing into the back of Shane’s thigh. 

“You’re not a very gracious loser.” This _really_ wasn’t part of Shane’s plan, but now, it’s becoming difficult to ignore all the different places Ryan is pressed against him, hard to ignore the feeling of Ryan’s wrists flexing underneath Shane’s fingers.

Then again, he probably should have expected this too, because if there’s one thing that Ryan is good at, it’s upsetting Shane’s plans, upending his _life_ , in the best way possible.

“Yeah? How gracious do you want me to be?” Ryan challenges with a grin. It’s an outright goad, and at any point, Shane would absolutely fall for it.

But he’s hungry, and the night is still young. They can always pick this up again later.

“Use your imagination,” he settles for saying as he lets go of Ryan’s wrists and sits back on his knees, unable to resist dragging his fingers down the outside of Ryan’s thighs as he does so. “Don’t you have a title to win back?”

That gets Ryan scrambling back up.

“Alright, asshole. You’re on.”

&.

By the time the food arrives, they’re tied, and Shane can tell that Ryan is just _itching_ to play one more game. But if they end up in that spiral, chances are that they’ll be playing until the wee hours of the morning, which isn’t a _totally_ horrible way to spend the evening, but also isn’t exactly what Shane envisioned when he was picturing a relaxing night off.

“We can pick it up after exams,” he says, switching the console over to the Netflix app. “Before I head back.”

“Right,” Ryan answers in a mutter, which throws Shane off enough to glance up from the loading screen. “Yeah. I’ll go get some plates.” He levers himself off the couch and heads into the kitchen, and Shane finds himself staring after him long after Ryan is out of sight and the only sign of him is the thumping of drawers and cabinets.

It’s not something they’ve really talked about a lot, not since Shane brought it up for the first time a few weeks ago. He didn’t really think it was something they _needed_ to talk about; he’s only going to be gone three weeks, and he still plans on talking to Ryan every damn day. He’d just assumed that they’d make it through fine.

But maybe that was a wrong assumption to make.

If Ryan's upset when he comes back into the room, he’s doing a remarkable job at hiding it. He drops the plates and a handful of paper towels into Shane’s lap, grabs the controller and starts scrolling through the recently added movies and shows.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asks, hovering over something just long enough for the preview to start playing before he keeps going.

“Your pick,” Shane says as he unpacks the food, more than a little distracted.

Maybe they should talk about Illinois _now_. Maybe they should put the movie on hold for a minute and lay everything out on the table, rather than wait until the night before Shane leaves (or maybe not at all).

But then Ryan turns and smiles smugly at him, and when Shane glances over at the screen, he’s met with the title card for Gremlins.

“You sure that you want to risk this?” Shane says. “I’m gonna be pretty pissed if you wake me up later because you had a nightmare.”

“You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” Ryan laughs, pressing play and tossing the controller aside. “I’m gonna find something that scares you someday, and when _you_ have nightmares, I’m not even gonna wake up. You’ll be on your own.”

“I’m unshakable,” Shane replies around a mouthful of burrito. “Good luck.”

(It’s not true; there are plenty of things of things that he’s scared of. It’s just that most of them aren’t so much physical things as they are thoughts and concepts.

Number one on his list of fears: that he’ll wake up tomorrow only to discover that Ryan has realized he’s made a mistake, even though Ryan has told him before, verbatim, that that isn’t the case.)

It’s been a long time since Shane has watched the movie, and while it’s definitely not aged well in some spots, it’s still pretty good. True to his word, Ryan doesn’t get scared, although he does wrinkle his nose a bit at some of the grosser bits, which Shane doesn’t really blame him for.

Once the movie is over, Shane gathers up all of the trash, takes it into the kitchen and grabs them both another beer. When he comes back, Ryan has just pressed play on another movie, a thriller they’ve watched before.

“What if I wanted to pick the next movie?” he asks jokingly, dropping back onto the couch and passing one beer over to Ryan.

“You picked dinner. That gives me the right to pick the movies.” Putting on a ridiculous voice, like a mobster from some 1930’s B-movie, he adds, “Them’s the rules, buddy. If you don’t like it, get the hell out.”

“Or what? You’re gonna give me the cement shoes treatment?” Shane asks, dropping his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. Ryan shakes his head, and his mouth ticks up into a grin.

“Nah,” he says, still using the mobster voice. “There ain’t enough cement in the world to make shoes for _those_ feet.” Almost immediately, he breaks character and starts beaming like the sun, laughing like he’s said the funniest thing in the entire world.

Shane’s willing to admit that he set himself up for that, and normally, he would come back with some kind of short joke, some kind of quip to cover his poor, wounded pride, but frankly, his brain isn’t exactly fully functioning, because all he can see is Ryan smiling up at him. Even though it’s been almost a year to the day since they first fell into each other’s lives, been nearly nine months since they became a _thing_ with definition and form, he still can’t believe that that smile is directed towards _him._

He’s always thought that the whole concept of past lives and reincarnation was bullshit, but maybe it's not. Maybe, at some point in the past, he was some kind of saint, because he’s pretty sure he’s done nothing good enough in _this_ life to deserve that smile.

Taking a quick swig from his beer, he leans forward, drops it on the cluttered coffee table, curls his fingers around Ryan’s shoulder and turns to kiss him. Ryan makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, a broken-off _oh_ that is possibly the most beautiful thing Shane has ever heard, and leans into Shane’s side as he kisses back. When Shane pulls back a little to breathe, Ryan chases after his mouth, presses himself even more firmly against Shane as he leans up for another kiss.

And another. And another.

Eventually, he ends up fully astride Shane’s lap, hands pressed to the side of his neck, kissing him hard enough to keep Shane’s head pressed against the back of the couch. He gives back as good as he gets, slides his hands underneath Ryan’s shirt and up the warm expanse of his back, over his shifting muscles. Ryan groans into his mouth and, after Shane manages to ruck his shirt up to the top of his ribs, leans back, pulls it over his head (knocking his glasses slightly askew in the process) and tosses it at the television. It seems like it would be a waste to not take advantage of all the new skin at his disposal, so Shane cranes forward and starts trailing a path of kisses down the side of Ryan’s neck and along his collarbones, fingers still splayed on his back. Ryan tilts his head back and rolls his hips down against Shane’s.

Shane’s glad that he didn’t bother changing back into jeans today, because the friction of Ryan’s dick against his through their sweatpants is enough to make him bury a moan into Ryan’s chest.

“Maybe we should go to your bedroom,” he says unsteadily, because unlike earlier, when they’d been waiting for dinner, he has absolutely no reason to hit pause on this, has no reason _not_ to get Ryan out of the rest of the clothes. “Just in case they come back. I’d rather they not see my dick again.”

“That was one time,” Ryan laughs, a little breathlessly.

“Yeah, and that’s one time too many.” It’d been a night pretty similar to tonight, where they’d had the apartment to themselves for a few hours. Technically, they were supposed to be studying together, had textbooks and notes strewn across the coffee table and floor, but somehow, they’d ended up making out, which had led to Shane lying on his back with one leg dangling off the couch and his dick in Ryan’s mouth. The movie they’d had on for background noise had been pretty loud, and Shane had been too busy focusing on the feeling of Ryan’s tongue working against him to pay much attention to the door and, well, one thing led to another.

(Thankfully, Zack and TJ haven’t brought it up since, but it’s still number one on the list of most embarrassing moments he hasn’t managed to successfully block out of his brain.)

“That’s fair.” Ryan leans back, grabs the controller and turns the console off. “Five more minutes. I’m not ready to get up yet.”

By the time they _do_ manage to get off the couch, Shane’s shirt has joined Ryan’s on the living room floor, and he’s so hard that it hurts. Ryan’s room is dimly lit by the streetlight outside, but it’s dark enough that Shane lets Ryan pull him across to the bed, doesn’t trust himself to not trip over something. Once his back hits the mattress, Ryan crawls up between his legs and starts kissing him again, slower this time, although based on how his hips are urgently pressing down against Shane’s, it’s not going to stay slow for long.

“Hey,” he murmurs after a moment, dropping his forehead to Shane’s, and Shane blinks his eyes open. “You know that I love you, right?”

In most of the movies Shane has seen, when someone says something along those lines, it’s usually a harbinger of doom, a sign that something terrible is about to happen or some dreadful secret is about to be revealed. 

But if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that Ryan isn't that cruel.

“Yeah,” he nods, chest aching overwhelmingly in a way that all the love songs and poems in the world couldn’t do justice to. “I love you too, Ry.”

Ryan smiles again in the seconds before he steals Shane’s mouth for a kiss that rapidly turns messy, and it’s safe to say that, if Shane wasn’t totally fucked before, wasn’t totally and absolutely _gone_ on Ryan, he is now.

&.

They shower together afterwards, and Shane ends up with a kink in his neck because the shower head is about four inches too low.

Still, like the soreness that sets into his legs in the mornings, it’s worth it.

It’s nearly eleven o’clock by the time they fall back into bed together with damp collars, a giant bowl of popcorn, and another movie that they’ve already seen playing on Ryan’s laptop, which is precariously balanced on the tiny bit of space between Ryan’s leg and the edge of the bed. Shane’s side is pressed against the wall; if he was any closer to it, he would actually be part of it. His arm is back around Ryan’s shoulders, growing wet from the stray droplets sliding down Ryan’s neck.

“I’ve got so much fucking work to do tomorrow,” Ryan sighs once the opening credits have finished. Amazingly, it’s the first time he’s really brought up schoolwork in nearly twelve hours, and Shane considers that a win.

“Me too.” At some point tomorrow, he’ll have to head back to his own place; he’s wearing the last clean clothes he has, and if he wants to finish his essay up, he’ll need the books he took out from the library, which are currently stacked on his own desk. “Did today help at all?” Ryan immediately nods and twists to drop a kiss to the top of Shane’s hand, where it’s curled around his shoulder.

“It was probably the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“I’m our nation’s biggest reservoir of great ideas,” Shane answers, which earns him a wheeze.

“More like our nation’s greatest tragedy.” Shane doesn’t even know what that is supposed to _mean_ , but before he can ask, the front door opens, letting in heavy footsteps and boisterous laughter that can only mean one thing.

“What do you want to bet they spent more time at the bar than at the library?” Ryan asks. The door to the bedroom is ajar, and a few moments later, TJ and Zack come up the hallway, whispering to each other (or, at least, Shane assumes they’re _trying_ to whisper, but they’re failing miserably at it). One of them knocks and pushes the door open, and they both slump against the door frame with matching idiotic grins.

Safe to say that Ryan’s guess is correct.

“You two look so _cozy_ ,” TJ says, waving a hand at them. “I’m jealous.”

“How much studying did you actually get done?” Ryan inquires, picking up a piece of popcorn and tossing it across the room at them. Surprisingly, Zack manages to catch it and pops it into his mouth.

“Like, two hours? Maybe? Or was it three?” Zack asks, glancing at TJ, who just shrugs.

“Who knows. But we’re back now! If we’re too loud, just come tell us to shut up.”

“Alright,” Shane says. “Night, guys.” With that, they head back down the hall; after a delay of a few seconds, Zack reappears in the doorway, gives them a thumbs-up and pulls the door closed, although it does nothing to block out the sound of their voices in the kitchen.

“I figured this was going to happen,” Ryan says with a shake of his head.

“You know, Zack should really start paying you rent,” Shane laughs. “At the rate he’s here, he’s basically your second roommate.” He's not actually serious; it’s more of an idle comment than anything. He knows that TJ and Ryan don’t mind having Zack over all the time (and not just because he contributes generously to their beer fund). However, instead of getting a comment in return, he just gets a quiet, uneasy laugh that immediately puts him on guard. When he turns his head, Ryan is chewing on the corner of his lip, staring at the screen but obviously not watching the movie. He looks _worried_ , for the second time that night, and while Shane was fine with delaying their conversation earlier, it’s obvious that there’s something bothering Ryan that they need to talk about sooner rather than later.

So, leaning forward and pausing the movie, he says, “What's wrong?”

Ryan stays quiet for a few more minutes, taps his fingers against his legs, and even though each additional second that he doesn’t speak makes Shane’s mind tick further into overdrive, he doesn’t push. He doesn’t want this to turn into a fight just because he’s impatient.

“Okay, fuck it,” Ryan says, taking the bowl of popcorn and placing it on the floor before he carefully twists out from underneath Shane’s arm and turns to sit up on his knees, so that they’re facing each other. “If it’s too soon, please tell me immediately, before I make a fool out of myself.”

“Okay,” Shane says, a little wary of what he’s agreeing to, but mainly just curious about what's been eating away at Ryan to get him like this. “What is it?”

Ryan takes another deep breath before he finally spits it out.

“When you get back, do you want to, maybe, look for a place for September?” As soon as the words are out, Ryan visibly relaxes, nearly _deflates_ , and Shane can’t help but wonder just how long this has been weighing on Ryan, how long he’s been worrying about it.

He wishes Ryan had said something sooner, because he could have saved him some anxiety.

“Yeah,” he answers, reaching out and taking Ryan’s hand. “I do.” His own mind has turned in that direction more than once; they already spend most of their nights rotating back and forth between their apartments. Consolidating down to one just makes sense. He doesn’t think it’s too soon, either; they’ve already known each other for a year, which has been enough time for him to get to know Ryan inside and out, to get to know his good _and_ bad traits, to make him aware of what annoying habits he’s going to have to live with.

“Really?” Ryan asks, visibly taken aback, but in a good way, if the smile slowly starting to reach up towards his eyes is any indication. “You’re serious? Because we can wait until after Christmas, if you want. Or never. You don’t have to say yes just because-”

“I don’t want to wait until Christmas,” Shane interrupts. “And I’m not just saying yes, alright? I want to. I really, really do. In fact...” He clears his throat, sits up straight, and says in the most solemn voice he can muster up, “Ryan Bergara, would you do the honor of moving in with me?”

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Ryan laughs as he leans in and kisses Shane hard, clumsily, considering that both of them are smiling through it. “Yeah. I wanna move in together.” A whoosh of breath leaves his chest and he laughs again, shakily, as he drops his forehead against Shane's. “Holy fuck. This went way better than I thought it was going to.”

“Jesus, how did you think I was going to react?” Shane asks in between pressing more messy kisses to the corner of Ryan’s mouth, to his cheek and jawline.

“I don’t know!” Ryan answers as he slides into Shane’s lap and grabs fistfuls of his shirt. “I mean, there were six different scenarios that I kept considering.”

“I’m sure they were all more absurd than the last,” Shane says, wrapping one arm around Ryan’s back and pulling him in closer, as close as possible. “We’re gonna need a bigger bed.”

“That’s fine.” Ryan swoops back in for another kiss. “Anything you want.”

They only break away from each other so that Ryan can set the laptop on the floor before it gets pushed off. Neither of them make a move for each other’s clothes; they just keep kissing in between breathless laughter. Shane’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and his chest aches, not from the lack of oxygen, but because he’s overwhelmed in the best way possible.

Almost exactly a year ago, he’d been lying in his narrow dorm room bed, staring up at the ceiling, alternating between thinking about everything he still needed to pack come morning and trying to sleep through the steady rumble of the party above. After an hour, he’d finally decided to say fuck it and join the party, at least for a few minutes.

Without a doubt, it’s the best spontaneous decision he’s made in his life.

Scratch that.

It’s the best decision he’s _ever_ made, spontaneous or planned, full stop, because it brought Ryan into his life, and frankly, now that he’s experienced nearly an entire year of it, he’s pretty sure that a life without Ryan in it wouldn’t be much of a life at all.

Hopefully, he muses as he rolls on top of Ryan, he won't have to find out if that's the case anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] you want a piece of my heart (you better start from the start)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061365) by [Shmaylor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmaylor/pseuds/Shmaylor)




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